I’ve written recently about how stories I write carry on in my imagination after I have finished and published the novel where they feature. Maybe this happens to other writers, maybe they then carry on and their imaginings become more than a post-script, it becomes a sequel. When I wrote a second Radwinter novel, it wasn’t a sequel because it was telling the second part of Thomas Radwinter’s story; book 1 was about his research into his paternal family line, book 2 was his similar quest into his maternal line. When I was pondering in my blog post on my own imagining of my characters’ lives after “THE END”, I explained that sometimes I write their story, just for my own satisfaction, to unwind from their lives I guess. I gave an example by sharing the last part of “The Stalking of Rosa Czekov” –
Here is what happened after the end of the book, no not a sequel, just my imagination unwinding:
Rudi pulled into the motorway services and rolled to a halt.
They hadn’t spoken a word to each other since she had slipped into the passenger seat, hours ago on the road out of Easthope. He looked almost ill but she daren’t speak.
“Do you need to go in?” he asked, staring straight ahead, hands on the steering wheel.
“Yes please, if you don’t mind.” she tried to speak normally but somehow her voice didn’t sound right, or the expression in it or the lack of expression.
He pulled the key from the ignition and got out, and she followed suit. Should she take his arm, try and hold his hand, he was staring across at the services and they set off walking in silence, side by side.
She went into the ladies’ and when she washed her hands, she didn’t look at herself in the mirror. It would be a long time before she was able to face her reflection again.
He was waiting outside and watched her with cold eyes as she approached.
“Coffee?” he hated her.
She wanted to say ‘no’ but she really really needed coffee.
“Anything to eat?”
“No, thank you, Rudi.”
They went to the take out and he ordered Americano and she had the same but with milk. She had left her bag in the car and he paid.
They walked back to the car in silence and when she got in she was crying. They sat in silence, they drank their coffee in silence, and when she had finished he took her cup and tossed it and his out of the window in the direction of a bin.
“Seatbelt!”
She pulled it on and they set off again. She closed her eyes.
